


Unboxing Memories

by garbagel



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagel/pseuds/garbagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever a chapter of her life closes, Claire Dearing fills a box with mementos from that period of her life, labels the box, and seals it up. By the time she begins working at Jurassic World, she's already got a storage container filled with her infamous boxes. One day, she realizes it might be time to open a few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

It has never been easy to sit still for Claire. Remaining stationary reduced her to a sedentary and procrastinating state, spreading like mold throughout her. When she was a teenager, she refused to fall back into these thick pools of unproductivity during the summer, taking on internships and side jobs, filling her evenings with parties, writing, and studying. Though she'd never share this now, she used to cherish Thursday nights, where she would spend two hours working on her painting skills. In fact, a beautiful young art major fell deeply in love with Claire during her first year of college, and taught her how to work with charcoal, tracing the outlines of forest flowers and the lapping waves of the lake. But the Cornell acceptance of transfer came in May, and Claire flew from her first love to her first career. She'd always had a hard time falling in love, or more importantly, staying in love. The art major still sent her letters filled with drawings of home, since she knew Claire would miss it, no matter how many credits she heaped onto her schedule.  
Upon graduation, they found out that both would be in Wisconsin for the summer. Claire could barely recall it now, but the art major still touched the frayed edges of the sketchbook where she'd drawn Claire's clean jaw, prominent cheekbones, and wavy red hair. She remembered how she'd received a letter, white and crisp, filled with too little writing to be good news. "I've accepted a position in DC for the summer," Claire had written her. "I fully support your artwork. Someday, I hope to commission you for pieces in my workplace or home. I hope the future is fruitful." The art major never heard from Claire again, and Claire did what she'd always done: filled a small box with all the mementos she'd kept from the relationship, written her name on a notecard, and sealed the box. When Karen saw this as Claire packed up for college, boxing up high school and placing it safely in a stack of middle school, summer adventures, and "miscellaneous memories", she couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh.  
"You do realize that this is textbook compartmentalizing. No, it's even more than that- Claire, you're literally boxing up your memories and putting them away." Claire just shrugged it off, as she often did. She was fully aware that she was compartmentalizing. She just didn't understand what was so bad about it.

In DC, she spent her mornings running, and her later mornings grabbing coffee and filling out reports for tired CEO's. It was a hell of a job to snag, and she couldn't believe that she was getting paid for what felt like a high school secretary job. It wasn't long before she'd spoken the right words at the parties, smiled enough, and shown enough incentive that another company requested to meet with her. Three months into living in DC she extended her stay, beginning to work with the group that reached out to her, working directly with other highly paid managers to plan galas and bring connections together when necessary. After half a year there, she was placed in charge of a large party, a gathering of the richest and brightest. For Claire, it was a dream come true: legions of people at her disposal, her trusty clipboard and iPhone, assigning workers to tasks and keeping everything running smoothly. Once the night was in order, she easily changed from her Queen Bee CEO character into her cocktail party queen demeanor, trading her nude heels for black ones. The dress she chose was dark blue, low cut, and dotted with small crystals. Her hair was still long, although straightened and no longer wavy. She pinned it up into a sleek bun, letting two strands fall on either side of her face to frame the look. A bit of darker red lipstick and a black clutch and she was beyond ready for the evening. She ruled the stage wherever she stood.

The party was an absolutely stunning event. The vaulted ceiling was strung with lights which hung down and illuminated the floor, with a large chandelier in the center. White tables and matching chairs dotted the sides with buffet isles neatly placed on either end. Waiters danced gracefully through the fray, offering small h'or d'oeuvres and champagne refills. Multiple languages were happily spoken, the energy of the party bubbling up towards the sky. Claire smiled and greeted friends, accepting their compliments with a smile and nod. She was pleased to hear some French and Italian spoken, both of which she could speak quite proficiently. Never missing an opportunity to meet new people (or even slightly impress them), she approached and asked how they were enjoying the party, if she could provide any assistance, and so on. They beamed at her words, responding enthusiastically and asking for nothing more than her name and perhaps more to drink. She smiled again, surprised at how easy making connections seemed to be, at least this night. As the speakers began addressing the crowd and the masses seemed to settle, she was recognized for her work in planning and organization and was called to the stage to give a brief speech before returning to her champagne and night of networking. She had only taken a few sips and spoken a few words to her table mates before she felt a soft hand on her shoulder.  
"Forgive me, but you are not the Claire Dearing that wrote her thesis on the future of opportunity, are you?" A lean and well dressed Indian man stared at her with a small smile, slowly moving his glass in small circles as he squinted at her slightly.  
"The future through the eyes of opportunity without limitation, yes I did. How did you possibly know?" She said with a smile.  
"Because if I remember correctly, you had a section devoted to genetic modification and the power of control without said limitations," The man continued. "And I distinctly remember a very excited intern bringing the article to me, pointing to your picture and shouting something about having graduated high school with you." Claire couldn't help but laugh a little, surprised that anyone would remember Claire instead of Karen, the athletic and flirty one who was rarely called a control freak or a bitch.  
"I'm surprised they'd remember me from so long ago!" She responded, gesturing with her hands in disbelief. She was also slightly mortified, as that thesis had been a sloppy paper that she'd rather forget. In fact, it was currently taped shut in a box in her storage unit, happily collecting dust. But somehow, this fellow Wisconsin teen had recognized her work.  
"Obviously you made a strong impression," The man continued, and then paused to look at her intensely once more. "And now you create things like this." It was his turn to move, gesturing to the room and the successful party within it.  
"Indeed. It's an honor to work with other dedicated people such as myself, and I'm just happy to see this event glean so much happiness and, of course, personal connections. I only wish I could force a survey on the attendants to accurately portray the benefits of the event," She finished with a chuckle, although she was fully serious. The other managers had politely denied her request for such a survey, and Claire had grinded her teeth and smiled it out. Being the "survey queen" in one workplace had been enough, and she wasn't eager to spread that nickname to her new job.  
"Ah, but where are my manners? I'm Simon Masrani, CEO of Masrani Global Corporations,” He said, extending his hand. She met him with a firm shake, smiling brightly. He was quite the star- not to mention amazingly rich. Claire wasn’t there as a leech, of course. She simply saw opportunity and took it.  
“It’s an absolute honor to meet you, Mr. Masrani. I’ve heard a great deal about your Jurassic World- it’s an incredible achievement. If I’d have known my thesis would end up in your hands, I would have written that genetic modification section a bit better.” She said with a small laugh, which he returned.  
“You’ve studied economics, correct?” Again, Claire found herself taken aback by how much he knew about her already.  
“I did, yes! You’ve certainly prepared yourself for this conversation,” She added lightly, hoping to find out why without probing him.  
“I look into everyone I speak with. I only wish to surround myself with the best and brightest.” Claire nodded and smiled at his answer, however vague. She wouldn’t pressure him again.  
“I studied economics and business at Cornell, focusing on asset management. My parents are still appalled I’m not an accountant, but I’m happy where I am.” She elaborated quickly, not wanting him to dwell on her previous questioning.  
“Are you happy where you are?” He raised an eyebrow when she didn’t immediately respond.  
“As long as I’m busy and in control, I’m happy.” She covered quickly, smiling over her previous slack-jawed expression following his unexpected question.  
“I want you to come and work at Jurassic World. For me.” He said, his smile returning, as well as his habit of swirling his flute of champagne.  
“Work at Jurassic World?” Claire reminded herself that she wasn’t a starstruck kid anymore, and needed to respond to adult questions like an adult. “What kind of position would I hold?”  
“Junior Assets Manager, till you get the hang of your surroundings. I’m sure you can… move once you’ve got the jist of it.” He said with a small wink. Claire contained her excitement and smiled widely.  
“I’m very interested, Mr. Masrani! Would I be living on the Island?” She held back from drilling him with questions, hoping to set up another meeting that was much more scheduled and much less in the middle of a party.  
“Yes! Isla Nublar is beautiful, just off of Costa Rica. Warm climate, gorgeous skies, and the dinosaurs aren’t half bad, either.” He said with a chuckle. “This company needs assistance, but it’s far from failing. You would be well taken care of,”  
Claire appreciated his hints to the high salary and lucrative position. She admired how smoothly he spoke about it, skating over blatant sentences in favor of light comments and warm smiles. She would be “well taken care of”- salary is very high, with full benefits. She could “move” once she understood the flow of the office- she wasn’t going to be a junior assets manager for long. The more Claire thought about it, the more impressed she was with Mr. Masrani. Of course he couldn’t ask her to lead Jurassic World operations now- she was still coming into this circle of the world, and the company could be hurt due to her lack of name recognition. Now she knew why he’d already known so much about her.  
“How could I say no?” She said with a smile and a small laugh. “When do I begin?”


	2. Owen Grady, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading + leaving kudos! Enjoy this next chapter! :)

“Hey Claire?” Owen called, his voice muffled by the many packing boxes, each neatly labeled with a name or place.   
“Yes?” Claire answered, balancing on one foot as she reached for a box titled “summer of 2008”.  
“Why does this box have my name on it?”  
Claire froze. She had completely forgotten about the Owen Grady box of 2014. Her cheeks were instantly flushed, and she hoped Owen would disregard it. Of course, he did not.   
“You’re pink.” He said with a tone of confusion, before it dawned on him and a grin spread across his face. “I’m opening this right now.”   
Claire began racing across the storage unit to stop him, but his powerful hands had already ripped the box apart. Realizing defeat, she figured she might as well explain to ease the blow.  
“When we went on our first date, things obviously didn’t go as either of us planned,” She said quickly, smiling out of nervousness. “So when it was over, I figured we were over, so I put all the stuff that reminded me of you and then-” She looked at her feet while she spoke, wringing her hands.   
“I don’t remember this from our date,” He interrupted, his voice considerably softer. There was a sheet of paper in his hands, the edges on the left side frayed as if torn from a notebook. The corners curled inwards, and water stains were visible throughout the page.   
Claire’s head snapped up, and she quickly lunged forward, punching the journal entry from his hands.  
“That’s not for you!” She shouted, losing her balance and attempting to maintain composure as Owen steadied her, quietly chuckling.   
“I’ll have you know, I bought a dieting cookbook after our first date. You were right- tequila isn’t included in any of them. How boring is that?” Claire just raised an eyebrow and huffed softly.  
“I’m often right,” She said with a smirk.   
“Then what’s on that highly dramatic and mysterious sheet of paper?” He asked, stepping closer to her. Claire countered this by stepping closer as well, staring up to him and squinting her eyes playfully.   
“I went on a bad date. My total number of dates isn’t that high, so I hit a bit of a low point after I got home. But then I went running and listened to some opera and felt much better.” Owen just smiled in response, stepping away from her to retrieve the paper off the floor. Claire began to protest, but he waved her off and began reading.  
“I’m going to kill Owen Grady and then I’m going to bring him back and then kick his ass in 6 inch heels and then kill him again.” Owen read, his eyebrows furrowing. “This isn’t going very well for me so far,” He commented, looking at Claire. She just shrugged, and he continued to read.  
“I know I’m a bitch. I live to be in control, I’m not afraid to voice my opinion, and I usually don’t give a damn about the response people have. I run Jurassic World, for goodness sake! I wear white on a tropical island. I’m literally in charge of keeping people happy while they enjoy my dinosaurs. Dinosaurs. Why am I threatened by one handsome Navy asshole when I can stare down the biggest CEO’s in the world while managing 25,000 people a day?”   
Claire cleared her throat softly and Owen paused.  
“It gets a bit rougher after this, so please understand that I was upset and everything was fine. Is fine.” She informed him with a nod.  
“Claire, if things weren’t fine, would you tell me?” Owen asked. Claire thought about this for a moment, and reached a saddening conclusion.  
“No.” She said plainly. Owen frowned a little.  
“That’s what I thought,” He sighed and then kept reading.   
“Maybe something is wrong with me. Maybe I’ve followed my head for so long that I left my heart somewhere. Perhaps it’s in a snowbank in Wisconsin, in my first apartment in DC, or on the gala floor where I met Masrani. Who knows? All of this silliness aside, I’m still angry about one thing: why can’t I shake this guy? I’m fine being heartless, it makes it easier to lead and make quick decisions. It’s what’s brought me this far. So why am I finding myself writing a journal about a bad date like I’m 16 again?”  
Claire sighed. It was embarrassing for anyone to know that she had these low moments, since she worked hard to keep them short and private. She wasn’t lying in that she bounced back within the hour, but a page of teenage level sadness wasn’t helping her case.   
“I don’t think it was your heartlessness that brought you this far,” Owen said, still staring at the page.  
“Neither do I.” Claire said, folding her arms. “Look, Owen- I want to be completely clear about something: I know my worth. I know that I can be a bitch, and that’s okay. I know that I’m not always like that. I know that I’m a great leader and that’s because I’m an intelligent woman who works hard and follows her dreams, fulfilling her goals. I’m under no illusions, no haze of self deprecation, and I’m not looking for a strong man to tell me that I’m fine the way I am.” Owen grew quiet at this, continuing to stare at the paper, eyes faraway. Claire took a tentative step towards him and sucked in a breath, turning her head to the side slightly.  
“That said, I am looking for a strong man who can match me and make me better,” She paused, lips turning into a smirk. “Though, I’m not sure that’s possible. I’m pretty good right now.” He laughed at this, finally moving and placing the journal entry back in the box.   
“Claire, if you think this page is bad, you should see the punching bag at my bungalow. Also, I was so hung up on you as well that your name may have been banned from the Raptor Paddock. If someone had to talk about you around me, they’d call you Roja, because of your hair and all. It took about 15 minutes for me to catch on though.” Now Claire was laughing softly, picturing a confused and angry Owen racing around with the Raptors.   
“I thought you would’ve forgotten about me in seconds. A handsome guy like you must’ve had plenty of dates, right?” Once again the pair was only inches apart, neither one planning to back down.   
“Like you, I was pretty confused. I thought you were just another pretty redhead and caught my eye- no offense.” She squinted at him slightly and shifted in her heels. If she was to be a pretty redhead, she would be THE pretty redhead. “Like I was saying, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and honestly couldn’t decide if I wanted to ask you out again or invite you to a volleyball match and beat your ass.” She scoffed at this.  
“You think you could beat me in volleyball?” She crossed her arms again, taking a step forward, their toes touching now. Owen felt his heart beating faster, and hoped Claire couldn’t tell. However macho he acted, he certainly felt smaller when around her- even when she was the one looking up at him. And as strange as it felt, he couldn’t help but love it.   
“I will beat you to a pulp in volleyball, anytime, any day. When are you free?” Claire said, pulling out her iPhone to schedule this showdown. Owen smiled at the action, finding her organizational skills cute and intimidating- he’d never be able to keep track of everything like she does.   
“Tomorrow at 4?” She nodded to his suggestion and typed it in. “Also, how about a wager? Since you’re gonna lose.” He added.  
“Gladly, Mr. Grady. Name your price.” Her eyes gleamed with joy, and Owen felt a shiver go down his spine as she stared him down. This woman could destroy him, and he would happily be destroyed- especially if it involved a bed and less clothing.   
“If I win, I get to check out all the contents of this Owen box.” He said.  
“And if I win, you go to the ballet with me, in a suit, and buy me at least one glass of an expensive white wine.” Claire responded. Owen didn’t tell her that he loved ballet, or that he’d do anything if she asked, or that he already bought a suit in hopes to impress her if they went on another date. Instead he nodded and shook her hand, sealing the deal.   
“I’ll go shirtless and flex a bit beforehand, so don’t get distracted, okay?” He said with a smirk. The two began to leave the storage unit for the day, Claire turning and staring into Owen’s eyes.  
“Maybe I will as well,” She smiled and then walked ahead of him, unlocking her sleek black car. Owen practically tripped over his bike, his heart thrumming in his ears as he listened to the clicks of her heels. Her car pulled away, and Owen could have sworn he heard a couple refrains of Nicki Minaj’s I Am Your Leader blasting from her stereo.   
“Damn.” He whispered. “I would not have pegged her as a Nicki type.”


End file.
